Insight
by OnceAlways
Summary: Characterisations of the Inheritance Cycle characters. Now on the average person. "So why bother? Life chooses its favourites, and he knows-accepts- that he isn't one of the lucky ones."
1. Roran

**Insight**

Disclaimer: If you recognise it, I don't own it.

_Roran_

"But the Ibo people have a proverb that when a man says yes his _chi_(personal god) says yes also" _Things Fall Apart, Chinua Achebe_

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><p>Roran was presented with all of life's greatest gifts from the day he was born. He was a farm boy almost miller, perhaps, but he was content. He was a farm boy almost miller, and so he had greater endurance and understanding when the world demanded it of him. He was a farm boy, and so he could be the greatest warrior in the time of the Black King's reign.<p>

He was never destined to be a Rider, but he was destined for greatness. When his cousin felled hundreds by magic and dragonfire he matched his prowess with the strength of his arm and the sturdiness of his hammer. He was never destined to be a Rider, because he didn't need to be one- life came naturally to him and practicality was his friend. So when his cousin was feared and loved, hated and adored, slandered and praised, he won over the world with his straightforward mannerisms and skill. He was the hero of all, and he never needed a dragon to eclipse, or be eclipsed by his hard work.

A leader by nature, he lived in the right time to find success and strength. He lived with the right people, with a father who taught him the right values and a cousin so full of questions and compassion that he found a dragon. His short life he spent with the Greats of the time, because he who uprooted a village, laid the foundation for the belief in Urgal-Human relations and killed nigh on twice hundred men in a single battle and then took a beating for doing the right thing qualified with ease for the position.

In matters of the heart, he excelled as well. Who would deny the bard which sang of his devotion to Katrina? He never had to fight particularly hard for her love; extenuating circumstances would take the place of dancing and dodging around the other. He won her once, when she fell in love with him. He won her twice, when he defied her father to ask her hand. Then he won her thrice, when he rescued her from the Ra'zac. So she stayed with him during a time when love was rash, love was bumbling, was chess, was dancing, was torture, was scars. No one else could claim as much during those days; and that is why men revere him as the mortal in the game of gods, he who exceeded his peers. It is why dragons will speak to him, for he had the sense Riders frequently lack (Eragon was not the first, nor the last, to have a penchant for danger). It is why dwarves will clink mugs of their finest brew with him, for his fortitude hewn out of stone. It is why urgals defer to him, for his strength and valour. It is also why elves greet him first, for his admirable faith.

There were no doubts that nature smiled upon Roran Stronghammer and adorned Garrowsson with love. And it was doubly true that Roran had made her proud.

Roran of the Hammer, he who was loved, would always be a hero, now and forever.

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><p><strong>AN:  
><strong>Umm, yeah, so. It has occurred to me that I really need to improve my English. And what better way to do so than through characterisation? For sure, I will use different forms of writing to find one that suits me best. (This form of writing I tried adapting from TFA, which I'm studying as a lit text! I don't think I succeeded though._.)  
>Hence, I would really appreciate it if you critiqued my writing. (Which should be in British English)<br>No, I won't get offended if you don't review/are highly critical of me and no, I won't ask you to review, but yes, my fingers are crossed.


	2. Arya

**Insight**

Disclaimer: If you recognise it, I don't own it.

_Arya_

"Beauty, strength, youth, are flowers but fading seen;Duty, faith, love, are roots, and ever green."  
>-George Peele, <em>Polyhymnia <em>

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><p>Welcome to Arya's mind; this is the exclusive, one-off tour of a hero's personal sanctuary. Step right in, and don't be afraid. With me here, you have access to more secrets than you would think a person would ever keep. Just remember; she's immortal, there's a lot to cover, and a lot less to share. Sign here, and here: It's just to guarantee that you won't spill any secrets, you understand? Speak of this, and the memory will be gone, and you will suffer for it. Violation of privacy, it's a very serious crime.<p>

You see at first glance that her consciousness is full of doors and corridors. And you can hear the musical strain of an elf's mind, can't you? Hers is slow, and plaintive, but with a bit of vibrancy and depth in it. It's a very high commendation for any elf- I'll tell you a secret; the music you hear in an elf's mind is very telling. Listen closely next time, if you ever have a chance to peer into another's mind. (I would recommend Oromis, but things happened.)

Now, as much as I would love to, I can't show you everything; it would take me centuries to guide you through them all, and well- You haven't that much time, do you? Every heartbeat is a clock tick, no? Follow me down this corridor- careful, there! Don't step too close to anything; you don't want to mess up the structure of her cognizance. It's very conscientious, you know! Look, everything's organized and labeled- we won't have any trouble, alright! This kind of neat and organized mind is 70% self-control, 20% willpower, 4% courage, 2% fear, 3% history and 1% miscellaneous. It's so very difficult to achieve this, let me tell you! Ah, our first stop- you'll see the label there. You can't read it, it's not English, so don't bother trying. It's named "Childhood", by the way.

In this room- sorry, please step in, careful! This room is so tiny, no, don't! …Yes, there. Stay there. You can look around from where you are. Whew, that's a lot of dust. Anyway, you can see that this was a really happy place. Everything's in really cheery colours- the loveliest shade of lavender, glowing, floating orbs, a toy horse that really moves(magic, remember?), and photographs, in which all are smiling, even Rhunön . And there- you see that polished wooden staff? The short one? That was the hook for Arya, the one that started her on her journey to become one of the greatest of the era. What a pity! Look, here, the photo album- this is the moment, on her tenth birthday, that her father passed away. It was the end of this room. I don't think she's visited it since… Well, that's it for here. Come along now.

Ah, here! You might like this. It's given the name "Studies". Arya's a voracious reader. I'm sure she'll have something of interest. Oh yes, wow. I was right. Come on in, come on in. This is one of the biggest rooms, and one of three I'm allowed to show you. This is a very wonderful and cozy library, indeed! Books and folders like the very walls. The carpet, too, contains secrets and the windows- just perfect for looking out, but dreadful for looking in. Clever! Plush seats, really comfortable. Oh, look- the shelves are clearly marked out for you. There's history, magic and languages, diplomacy and swordplay, strategies and maps…. So many topics! Who knew she had that much time to pursue her interests. Oh, there, there, the gigantic shelf in the middle, all the way to the top, that's botany, her special interest! I don't see any math here, though… maybe that's why she's never done any logistics in the Varden, as far as I know of. Now, let's move on before we get caught here forever.

Oh! This should be interesting- it's labeled "Precious People". Let me see… Yes, yes, we have clearance. Come on in! Photographs are all over the place. Light streams in from… is that a ray of sunlight? The entire room's white… What a tranquil feeling! Let's see…There are quite a few of Evandar… An unexpected amount of Islanzadí…Some Fäolin, lesser Glenwing, Rhunön's featured too… Oh my, that's a lot of Eragon! There's a few photographs less of Saphira, though. The rest are a sparse collection of leaders and friends she's made throughout the years… Like Brom, like Ajihad. Where's Fírnen, you say? Ah, he's always ever present in her mind. It's just, I'm not allowed to show you the sharing room. It's too intimate. Hm, you know, most people's "Precious People" rooms are filled with memories? Almost like, ah, whatchamacallit, your…_movies_. Usually they line the walls and you can pick and choose what to view. Maybe this shows how much she has lost, and how exclusive she is, you know? If you had access to her emotions room… Well, it's easily the largest and most dangerous room! That's where she normally puts all her concentration into, and so it's a really turbulent environment. Not quite safe. She loves very very wholeheartedly. And she's lost so very very much… But enough of this melancholy! On to the last stop for today.

This one's the other big room! It's labelled "Dreams". I think in the hopeful sense. It should be, anyway. Step lightly; oftentimes, we never know how resilient our dreams are. Some are a shining beacon; those you don't have to worry about, because you'll never be able to diminish them. However, some are like a breath of air; they'll dissipate the moment you trod on them. Sometimes they grow stronger, sometimes they just don't work out. Oh, look! There, the far end- the two strong ones there. Ah, the first… Look closely now. Ah, the Elves… They're standing straight and tall, the forest in the background. What an immense forest! It breathes strength and wisdom. What a dream! Certainly, I, for one, can respect the hope she has for her people. The other one… A fire, crackling in a wooden house, a little way away from the sea. Two silhouettes on an armchair, clearly enjoying whatever lies outside the window... You know what… ? It isn't our place to intrude in on this scene, let's leave, quietly, softly, gently…. 

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><p>That... Did not turn out the way I wanted it to. O.o<p>

Comments/ideas? :3 They'd be very appreciated!

_Thank you for_ reading.


	3. The Average Person

_Anyone who wasn't "special" enough_

"It may be hard for an egg to turn into a bird: it would be a jolly sight harder for it to learn to fly while remaining an egg. We are like eggs at present. And you cannot go on indefinitely being just an ordinary, decent egg. We must be hatched or go bad." _C.S Lewis_

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><p>He sits, and he waits. He comes here everyday, to sit and wait and watch in the little cafe in the corner. He doesn't think the monotony of his life will change, oh no, in fact, he counts on the fact that his life is so dull to make up for all the mistakes. He tries, he thinks, but it simply isn't his fault that life gave him the short end of the stick, is it?<br>No, certainly, some would consider him fortunate. He was, to put it simply, average. Average, because he was always stuck somewhere in the middle, straddling the lines between fortunate and unfortunate. He earned enough to survive, had a low key job in some huge firm, looked average, thought average. In short, he was nobody.  
>Because isn't it the truly average who fade into nothing? Living on a common face, thinking on a common train of thought, and no one really cares, because he's not gifted, but he hasn't got special needs, either. So why bother? Life chooses its favourites, and he knows-accepts- that he isn't one of the lucky ones. He isn't aware that he knows this already, because he lives in his own ignorant pocket of the world, sipping his average coffee, indifferently awaiting the new day, and something in him waits for something in someone else to recognise him.<p>

But he waits, and waits, and his routine never changes. Nothing ever happens, or maybe it does, but it passes him by, over and over again.

And slowly, he forgets he is waiting, till he's there for the coffee, then there for the sake of tradition, then there because he doesn't know why.

And slowly, slowly, the flickering candle in him that wants to be lit wastes away, and all that's left is the wick, useless and insignificant.

That was when he truly faded into non-existence. Or perhaps, he never truly existed.

At all.

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><p><strong>AN:**

****Written sometime back on a dreary day, I figured that not everyone can be everything they've ever promised to be, and this is the result; the imagination of a soldier who, after war and progress, finds he does not matter to anyone at all.

It is indeed an AU, because I could think of nothing more ordinary than over-reliance on caffeine. (I myself am more of a tea person, though)


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